Hope Is The Gun
by Funky In Fishnet
Summary: Ste doesn't call the police when he hears the gunshot that kills Seamus. Instead, he rushes back and makes sure that he and Brendan face the future together.


_**Disclaimer: **__I own nothing._

_**Author Notes: **__Another alternate take on what could have happened after Seamus's death. Title is a lyric from the song 'Army Of Two' by Olly Murs._

* * *

**HOPE IS THE GUN**

When Ste heard the gunshot, he froze. The world seemed to pause all at once, sick horror filling him up, then just as suddenly, everything sped up again and Ste was running back to the warehouse, running and running and then hammering on the door. His heart was beating so fast, he thought it would burst out of his chest. Not this, not now, not Brendan. It was like he couldn't breathe, not until he saw Brendan, not until he knew Brendan hadn't...

The door gave way under Ste's fists and Brendan caught him.

* * *

Cheryl cried, clinging to Brendan, then to Ste. Between sobs, she revealed that she knew the truth of her childhood at last and that when Seamus had gotten Brendan at his mercy again, she hadn't hesitated. Dark satisfaction curled through Ste – good, Seamus was gone, he couldn't hurt Brendan any more. Good.

He held Cheryl through her tears, while Brendan paced, probably already deciding to shut them out and deal with this himself. Ste made sure not to look at the body sprawled out on the floor.

Sure enough, Brendan's first words into the silence were "You should go, both of you."

Both Ste and Cheryl protested, though eventually Cheryl was persuaded to go home and take care of herself. Ste held her close and whispered that she should tell Nate everything. No secrets, not if they wanted what they had to last. If she tried carrying this alone, it would crush her.

Once Cheryl had left, Ste refused to follow her. He moved closer to Brendan, heartbeat fast and everything in him determined. No way was he being pushed aside.

"Stop trying to decide my future for me. I'm staying."

Brendan looked at him incomprehensibly. He was twitching, straining at the seams to hold everything together. He was willing to soldier on though, to load more onto his own shoulders and to hide behind a sneering mask because people expected this kind of thing from him. Because then nobody would look towards his sister, towards the people he loved.

Ste's heart shuddered. God, people round here really didn't know the real Brendan at all, did they? Because that was the way he liked it, hiding in plain sight, protecting who he'd been and who he was.

Ste's hand cupped Brendan's jaw. Brendan closed his eyes and took a deep unsteady breath.

* * *

They were silent that night in Brendan's room, stripping away clothes and defences. They were silent, mouths and hands smoothing bruises and scars. Love was lavished into the cracks, into the open wounds. Reminders were painted on skin – _you're not alone, we'll get through this, I'm never leaving you._

They were silent and they didn't take their eyes off each other.

* * *

Ste visited Amy the next day. He told her that Seamus had gone as quickly as he'd arrived, back to Ireland probably, that he'd been a real bastard. He didn't colour between the lines, he couldn't, not even for Amy. Amy squeezed his hand and asked if he was all right, if Brendan and Cheryl were too.

"We will be."

That was a truth Amy knew only too well. She poured tea and hugged him, and Ste relaxed into her forgiving understanding presence. Thank God for Amy. Thank God.

* * *

Brendan hid Seamus's body in his car boot until the next night, the news of Seamus's abrupt departure back to Ireland already seeded throughout the village. Brendan tried to drive off alone to dispose of the body. No chance. He might never come back again.

Ste got into the passenger seat and put on his seatbelt defiantly. "You keep driving, I'm coming with you."

There was that look of perplexed wonder on Brendan's face again; mixed in with the kind of frustration that Ste was used to seeing. He was stubborn, so what? It was an asset at times like these. Brendan was used to shedding people before they hurt him, before he hurt them. Ste was better than that.

They drove into the darkness together.

No ponds or rivers, Ste told him, his hand resting on Brendan's thigh. The joking tone didn't quite work though, because Ste found himself shivering at the memory of Danny's body floating up to the surface. That couldn't happen again.

Brendan knew a place, an abandoned stretch of woodland, the sort of place that the locals stayed well away from and told hoary old stories about. There was an axe lying on the car's backseat. Ste's stomach lurched and he staggered out of the parked car just in case. Brendan was a silent strong presence behind him. His hand was warm at Ste's back. Ste took in several deep breaths, leaning into the warmth, needing it more than anything.

He didn't look as Brendan set about carving up his demons. He stayed close though, close enough to hear the disgusting sounds, to hear the effort Brendan was expending, to hear the pain he wasn't verbalising. Eventually each piece was bagged up and deeply buried where the ground was already disturbed. Brendan's car boot wasn't even smeared with blood. He wrapped the axe in binbags before shoving it onto the backseat, claiming he knew a place to dispose of it after a bleaching.

Ste rested his head against the crook of Brendan's neck. He closed his eyes and listened to the thrum of Brendan's pulse. He felt cold all over – that was a body, that was somebody's life in little bits – but that was also Seamus, who'd had a sick hold on Brendan for far too long. Ste's satisfaction and relief far outweighed the chill in his bones.

He wrapped his arms around Brendan, keeping them both warm, before murmuring "Let's go home."

* * *

Leah and Lucas were visiting for the next few days. The light they brought was enormous, the relief was even better. Brendan was almost standoffish for the first couple of hours, like he shouldn't touch them, like even the brush of his hands would be damaging. But Ste shook his head and crowded Brendan against the kitchen counter, his mouth hot and meaningful on Brendan's and his eyes firm and swimming with what he was desperate for Brendan to understand.

"They're safer now, we all are. They love you; it hurts them more when you pull away."

The layers of meaning softened the lines of Brendan's face and he checked Ste's expression – what for? Disgust? Fear? Regret? Forget it. Ste held his ground. He meant every word.

Brendan held Leah's hand when they all went for a walk in the park and accepted the rough handful of dandelions that she pressed towards him. He told her they were the right colour for her hair, but that they weren't nearly pretty enough. Leah giggled and something warmed inside Ste's chest, watching them together. It was something so tender and fragile, it was perfect.

Later, when Ste emerged from making dinner in the kitchen, he found Brendan braiding the dandelions into Leah's hair with surprisingly expertise. Leah was holding a mirror and looking wide-eyed with delight. Brendan met Ste's gaze with familiar raised eyebrows and embarrassment all tinged round the edges. Ste's lips twitched, that warmth inside of him growing as rapidly as his urge to laugh, but before he could break the bizarre and wonderful moment, his daughter got there first.

"He does better braids than you, Daddy."

"Oi!"

* * *

Cheryl made them dinner one night. Nate was there too. He didn't hover exactly, he was more reassuring, a warm constant steadiness that Cheryl clearly needed. He didn't look at Brendan or Ste any differently, despite clearly knowing what had happened. Brendan still whipped out the unnecessary remarks, unable to stop chipping away at somebody determined to stake a place in his sister's life, but Nate dealt with it brilliantly, laughing appropriately and kissing Cheryl on the cheek.

They were going to go away for a while, Cheryl revealed, a resolved look on her face. Just a little holiday, a break. Nobody in the village would think it was unusual, a couple needing some time together before their wedding, especially after a difficult visit from the bride's father. Totally normal, exactly what they needed.

Ste liked the idea of a holiday, some time away from the village, away from everything, from memories of axe-type noises and the sight of Seamus's motionless body.

The chance would be a fine thing. They couldn't all go on holiday at once, that was pretty much the definition of suspicious behaviour.

Anyway, he and Brendan were still knitting themselves back together, still dealing with Ste's slowly-healing bruises, Brendan's habit of pushing people away whenever he decided it was necessary, and Ste's jumps to the wrong conclusions. Despite being reunited, despite Ste being determined that Brendan was not going to prematurely decide an ending for them, they had a lot to work through.

They needed time. Life went on, and day by day, their hands and lips meeting in public, their words slowly giving each other access to what lay within, so did they.

* * *

Ste lay beside Brendan. Brendan's hand stroked at Ste's waist. Light sliced through gaps in the half-drawn curtains and spread patterns across their bodies. A song fuzzily blared from a radio in the flat next door. Ste thumbed the edge of Brendan's mouth.

They only had eyes for each other.

_-the end_


End file.
